


Of Muses and Men

by WillowsRambles



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Reader is a happy little artist eager to get her gremlin hands on some paper and a pencil, Reader-Insert, Tenth Class (Team Fortress 2), apologies for not writing accents i struggle with that asfgdhgjh, each chapter is a different route, no beta reading we die like women
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowsRambles/pseuds/WillowsRambles
Summary: Life in the Badlands wasn’t something you could really call boring per se, as there was always some form of chaos going on in the fort you and your team called home, but it was definitely… empty, in a way. You had always loved drawing before you were hired, though, so you did the next obvious thing, and asked Miss Pauling to bring you some paper and a pencil when she next came by with supplies.
Relationships: Engineer (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Heavy (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Medic (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Miss Pauling (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Sniper (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Spy (Team Fortress 2)/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 96





	1. Prologue

Life in the Badlands wasn’t something you could really call _boring_ per se, as there was always some form of chaos going on in the fort you and your team called home, but it was definitely… _empty,_ in a way. There wasn’t much to do but fight, play poker, hang around with the other mercs and do chores, and being in the middle of nowhere certainly didn’t help much with that. Sometimes there were days where you just had to get away from the men and do your own thing, but having nothing _to_ do proved to make that challenging.

You had always loved drawing before you were hired, though, and it had been months since you last sketched something. You were starting to miss always having a pencil and notepad with you. So, you did the next obvious thing, and asked Miss Pauling to bring you some when she next came by with supplies. 

Your excitement over the next few days could barely be contained. Though you tried to maintain a sense of professionalism and dignity amongst your colleagues, they easily took note of the slight bounce in your step and sudden boundless energy. And really, it spread through the rest of the team. Everyone seemed to be looking forward to tackling the day more than usual.

When Miss Pauling finally came, you wasted no time in rushing to the door, somehow beating even Scout to the entrance. 

“Woah— Hi [y/n],” Miss Pauling grinned slightly, struggling with the load of bags in her arms. “Mind helping me bring these to the dining room? It’s uh— kind of hard to carry all these.”  
  
“Of course!” 

Your enthusiasm caught Miss Pauling off guard, but with the two of you (and Scout, yammering endlessly to Miss Pauling while rooting through a bag you assumed was for him) splitting the bags, you made quick work of reaching the dining room, where the other mercenaries had already started to trickle in.

“Right, thanks for the help [y/n],” Miss Pauling grunted as she set the last bag down. “Your bag is that one to—”

“Thank you so much, Miss Pauling!” You grabbed at the bag she had pointed to before she could finish and scampered off down the hall without a second thought, narrowly avoiding careening into Sniper as he slipped into the room.

“...What the bloody hell was all that about?”

Miss Pauling could only shrug helplessly as a scuffle between Soldier and Pyro broke out over one of the bags behind her.

Right away you began wandering around the base, searching for a subject to draw. While you could always doodle, your hands were itching to be able to trace someone or something’s likeness onto the paper cradled in your arms in person. There was something beautifully satisfying about doing studies that you were longing to experience again.

With a hum, you turned around, carefully weighing the options in your mind. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to draw at a glance, but with all the activity around you there was surely bound to be _something_ that would inspire you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO FIRST TF2 FIC
> 
> this has been bouncing around in my head for a hot minute, so I hope you enjoy! I haven't written anything in a while and have never written anything in second person with [y/n], so please forgive if it seems a little stiff or clunky ;u;


	2. The Muse of the Medbay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medic's chapter! Engie's is coming up next.

Your wandering eventually took you to the medbay, which, you discovered, was surprisingly empty. _Huh._ Medic must still be out in the dining room, then. You’ve… never really been in here alone, you realized, and even then, you rarely visited the medbay. Part of you was urging you to get out; you weren’t supposed to be here, you might touch something you shouldn’t, what if you discovered some horrid undead head of an enemy Spy in the fridge — wait, no, that was actually ridiculous. For all of Medic’s faults, he wouldn’t keep a _head_ in his fridge. 

...Right?

Whatever. It was probably fine. Just looking for something to draw wouldn’t do any harm.

Despite the misgivings still nagging at you in the back of your mind, you stepped farther into the room. It was fairly chilly in the medbay, and your footsteps echoed hollowly around the otherwise silent room. The sterile scent of the machinery and tools around the examination table made you squirm, and you gave Medic’s working area a wide berth as you wandered around, just to be safe.

Nothing really caught your interest, though, despite all the fascinating objects scattered around, and with some slight disappointment, you turned back towards the door.

_Coo?_

Your head whipped around so fast that pain shot up your neck at the noise. Wincing, you fumbled to massage the crick out of your neck as Archimedes fluttered down from the rafters to perch on a metal cabinet near you.

“Hey, buddy,” you smiled weakly up at him. The dove cocked his head from side to side before lifting up a wing to preen his side.

Oh. Your eyes widened as inspiration suddenly struck you, and you quickly plopped your butt down on the cold marble floor — _a mistake, but it would be worth it_ — and nearly ripped the cover off your sketchbook in your haste to open it. The tip of your pencil touched the paper and paused momentarily, before you began to lightly trace out the shape of a wing, then a small head, and the breast and tail of a dove. The movements of your wrist and fingers were stiff and awkward at first, but you willed yourself to keep going, glancing up momentarily from the paper to study the dove who had since flown closer to perch on the floor next to you.

Before you knew it, you had filled up three pages with various dove sketches. Your shoulders and neck were aching from how long you had been sitting, and your spine creaked when you stretched. By now your arms were covered in goosebumps from the temperature in the room and your butt was _definitely_ cold, but you were right; it had absolutely been worth it. You were fortunate to not have lost your touch, you mused, looking over the drawings in your sketchbook. You paused on your favorite one. It was the largest sketch, and by far the most detailed. Though it was just a bust of Archimedes, you prided yourself on the care you had put into etching the down on his neck and chest. You had even included the bloodstained feathers, which, if your shrunken eraser was any proof, weren’t easy to shade.

“Those are very lovely, Fräulein.” A voice sounded behind you, startling the living hell out of you. You shrieked and spun around on your butt, clutching your sketchbook to your chest. You stared up at the Medic with wide eyes, speechless. He grinned back, amused by your reaction. “I’m impressed.”

“...How long have you been standing there?” You eventually squeaked. 

“Long enough.” Came his airy response. You shrank further into yourself, face awash with red hot embarrassment. How had you not noticed him at all?

“I-I’m, uh, sorry for intruding—” Your attempt to apologize was cut off with a wave of Medic’s hand. 

“Don’t fret, [y/n]. I see no harm done anywhere. Your drawings are beautiful; in my medical opinion, it would be a crime to stop you from drawing in here.”

“...Huh?”

The doctor smiled down at you. “You’re free to draw in the medbay as much as you’d like. I won’t stop you. Come now, up from the floor; it’s cold.” He offered a gloved hand out to you. You fumbled a bit with your pencil and sketchbook before tentatively placing your hand in his. He pulled you up with a surprising amount of strength that you hadn’t really expected from him, causing you to collide into his chest. _Fuck._

“Oh! S-sorry.”  
  
He chuckled at your stammering, a firm hand on your back while you attempted to regain your footing.

“Come back whenever you wish.”

You could only nod, blushing furiously as you ducked out into the hall.

You’d find yourself back in the medbay a couple days later, this time with a sweater, perched on a high stool that you hadn’t noticed before. Had Medic placed it here for you? While you were sketching, feet up on one of the stool’s rungs, the Medic was busy reading what seemed to be a very scientific book.

You found your gaze traveling back to him more than once, rather than focusing on the very empty page in your lap. You had been planning on drawing Archimedes more, but it was so much more of a struggle with Medic in front of you.

You bit your lip. 

Tentatively, you drew over the feather-light marks of your initial dove sketch, the arch of the bird’s back becoming the bridge of a man’s nose. You could feel your motivation blossoming as you progressed, detailing the jawline and the glasses of the man in front of you. The gentle curve of his lips were etched onto the paper with painstaking care, the firm yet relaxed form of his shoulders studied deliberately in an attempt to match the lines of the paper as closely as possible to real life. 

It was incredibly obvious that you were staring at him. There was no way he wouldn’t notice; you were fully aware of how open you were being yourself, but at this point you were far too engrossed in your work to stop. You were thankful that he didn’t comment, at least.

Eventually, though, you had to stop, as your muse suddenly shut his book and stood, announcing that it was time for dinner and that you both had best get to the kitchen. You nodded, not missing the knowing smirk flitting over the Medic’s face, and promptly broke eye contact with him.

You trailed behind him as he walked out of the medbay, only parting ways when you headed into your room to drop off your supplies. You couldn’t help but gaze at the drawing of the handsome doctor in your hands, fingers barely ghosting over the pencil marks on the paper as to not smudge the work you had put into it.

This one, you thought as you laid your open sketchbook on your nightstand and turned to leave the room, you wouldn’t mind keeping to yourself.


	3. The Muse of the Workshop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> punches dirt!!!!! Engie's chapter done!!!!!  
> Next up is Snipes

Your quest to find a suitable subject to draw led you to Engie’s workshop. You were surprised to find that he didn’t turn to greet you upon opening the door. In fact, he seemed so focused on his work that he hadn’t heard you at all. Well, _that_ was familiar.

He had never minded your presence when you dropped by to chat with him while he worked. Surely he wouldn’t mind if you sketched a few of his machines quietly, right? With luck, you’d even be able to finish and leave before he noticed you. Like a ninja. Or a Spy.

On second thought, that second analogy probably wouldn’t be much appreciated by the hardworking Texan.

Nevertheless, you quietly tucked yourself into a corner of the room and did your best to make yourself comfortable, gazing around at all the machines lying around. Ah, a second-stage sentry gun. You could draw that to start.

Starting with the sentry gun was a mistake. You silently cursed your hubris, erasing yet another wobbly line that was _supposed_ to be one of the muzzles of the sentry. Curse circular shapes too. Even at an angle they were impossible to get to look right. On the bright side, you had gotten very good at the details on the sentry gun, having multiple little thumbnails in an attempt to work out how to draw the blasted thing. You’d even say it looked rather professional, but at this point you were more than ready to draw a different subject. 

Looking around, you selected a dispenser, and eventually a teleporter, and a strange gun you had never seen Engie use before. Soon enough, you had multiple sketches of every interesting machine you could spot in Engie’s workshop, even going so far as to sneakily scoot yourself around the place to get them at different angles. What else could you draw, though?

Your eyes trailed over to the man still hunched over his workbench, his broad back towards you. You couldn’t help but grin somewhat. The odds of the usually perceptive Engineer not noticing you after all this time was impossibly low. Seeing how absorbed he was in his work was… endearing, in a way.

You dared to scoot just a little closer, just a little more to the side, hoping to be able to catch a glimpse of his jawline while he worked. Bless the fact that Engie’s goggles blocked part of his peripheral vision. Carefully, you jotted little markers into the paper, planning out the proportions of your next drawing. Slowly, the outline of your muse’s helmet was formed, then light lines indicating the slope of his back and shoulders, then his firm arms and sturdy jaw. You grew invested in the wrinkles and texture of his overalls, tilting your pencil this way and that to get just the right shape. You wanted this to be _perfect._

Unfortunately for you, though, it seemed that your luck had run out. You weren’t even halfway through your drawing when the Engineer leaned back and stretched, letting out a startled exclamation when he finally saw you and nearly falling off his seat, startling _you_ in the process.

“What in Sam Hill—!? Jesus, [y/n], you scared me.” He put his gloved hand on his chest. “How long’ve y’all been sittin’ there?”

You could only shrug sheepishly in response and give him an apologetic smile. “I… don’t know?”

Engie sighed and shook his head, unable to hide the grin that formed on his face in turn despite the scolding tone in his voice. “C’mon now, [y/n], you know I don’t mind your company. Don’t have to be all sneaky about it.”

“Sorry, Engie. I didn’t want to bother you just to, y’know. Sit here for a few hours.”

“Uh huh. You’re never a bother, sweetheart.” 

You blushed at the pet name. Engie fully turned to you on his seat, tilting his head in a manner that reminded you strongly of Pyro. “So, what was it that was so important you needed to sneak around for?”

“Um. Drawing.”

“That so? Can I see?”

You snapped your sketchbook shut in response. You weren’t sure what you’d expected the Engineer’s response to be. Not mockery, of course not, but… interest in your work? Definitely not that either.

“Aw, c’mon, pumpkin. How ‘bout we trade? Your sketches for my blueprints.”

“Your _blueprints?_ You’d let me look at them?”

“‘Course. Not that you’d likely be able to understand them, so there’s no harm in it.”

You pouted and smacked Engie’s arm with your sketchbook, earning you a hearty laugh.

"What do you say, [y/n]? It’ll be our lil’ secret."

“Well…" As much as you’d rather the Texan _not_ look through your notebook, your curiosity about his designs outweighed your embarrassment. You knew he wouldn’t make fun of your drawings either. If you were lucky, he’d just flip through the first few pages and hand them back. Right? Right. Most people did that anyway; drawings weren’t _that_ interesting in the end. "Alright. Our secret.” You hesitantly offered your sketchbook out to Engie, who smiled warmly at you and handed you his blueprints in response. 

He was right. As fascinating as the designs and concepts of his machines were, you didn’t understand this sciency bullshit at all. The equations and tiny notes about quantum mechanics were an entirely different language to you. Not that you’d give him the satisfaction of admitting it aloud. 

“Damn, [y/n].” Engie’s impressed tone tickled your ego. “These are fantastic. Where’d you learn…” He flipped a page and promptly trailed off, pausing at the drawing he was looking at. You could see his cheeks flush with a warm pink. _Damnit._ Lady Luck _really_ wasn’t on your side today. “...Oh.”

You hid your face in his blueprints.

“You were drawin’... me?”

An awkward silence followed.

“Well,” an embarrassed chuckle floated over from where Engie was sitting, “it’s real good; I’m flattered. Though, I do gotta say I think you made me a bit too slim ‘round the torso, here—”

“What?” You popped up immediately, scrambling over to peek at the drawing yourself. “No way! You’re not _fat,_ Engie, the proportions are fine —”

You were cut off by Engie’s laugh and his arm winding around your waist, pulling you to his shoulder in a one-armed hug. “Kidding, kidding. I really am flattered though, this is great.” He glanced up at you with a smile. “Mind if I keep it?”

You opened your mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say. “It’s, uh… not— not really finished?” You managed weakly.

“I don’t mind none. It’s perfect the way it is in my eyes.” 

He gave you another squeeze. 

“Just like you, darlin’.”


End file.
